


Don't Forget Me

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bucket List, Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Heavy Angst, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: Meg hasn’t said a word on their trip back from the hospital.





	Don't Forget Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LilyAnson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyAnson/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Lori, you sadistic bastard!

Meg hasn’t said a word on their trip back from the hospital.

Castiel’s been talking nonstop, talking about the weather, the music in the radio station, what they’re having for dinner tonight. Any and all topics that he can think of, just to fill the awkward silence in the car as they drive back.

He thinks the both of them are in denial. She can’t avoid the elephant in the room, but he can’t talk about it. It’s like a spell: the moment they talk about it, the moment they acknowledge what’s about to happen, then it becomes real. And there’s no way to avoid it.

Not that there was any before.

He parks the car inside the garage.

“We can order takeout, if you want,” he offers. “Or maybe pizza. We can…”

Meg leaves the car and slams the door in her wake. Castiel sits in silence, with his head pressed against the wheel for several minutes before he opens the door as well and follows her into the house. He finds her in the kitchen. She has taken her jacket off and placed it on the back of the char. She has her hands crossed over the table and she’s staring into the wall, as if their wallpaper was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Meg,” he says, stepping closer to the table. He sits by her side and puts a hand over hers, but she doesn’t squeeze it in return. “Meg, please talk to me.”

She slowly moves her head to peel her eyes from the wallpaper.

“I’m going to die.”

Castiel grits his teeth and closes his eyes. It feels like a punch straight to the gut, to hear her putting it so bluntly. The doctor had beaten around the bush in the way they said it: “palliative care” and “terminal” and “we’re very sorry”. But the bottom line had been exactly that. They couldn’t precise when, either. Anywhere between six months and a year.

“Meg…”

“I’m going to die,” Meg repeats. “And you’re going to be alone and depressed… and oh, my God, you’re probably going to kill yourself.”

“I’m not going to… Meg.” Castiel puts a hand on his wife’s cheek and makes her look at him. “Why are you worrying about me and what I will do? You’re the one who’s…”

He chokes up before he could say another word. He can’t bring himself to. She’s right. After she is gone, he’s going to be alone. All the plans they made, all the time they spent postponing having children because it wasn’t the right time and now it’s too late and…

“Stop it,” she says. Her voiced cracks in the air like a whip. “See, that’s exactly what I mean. You’re spiraling.”

“Of course I’m spiraling!” Castiel snaps. He doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t want it to be like this. He is suddenly fully aware that every moment they’re living from now on is the last one and he doesn’t want to fight, but suddenly it’s all too much and all his emotions come pouring out before he can stop them. “You’re going to die and you’re sitting here worried about what it’s going to happen to me! Why aren’t you more worried about yourself?”

Meg stays quiet for a couple of seconds. Then, slowly, she raises her eyes at him and he realizes that he must have known she’s putting on an act for him. She’s always been strong, so much stronger than he is, stubborn and fierce and unstoppable. But as he looks in her bloodshot eyes, he know suddenly just how tired and how scared she is.

He also knows not even that is going to make her stop.

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me,” she states. “There’s no point. When I die, I’ll just… be dead and I won’t be suffering anymore or whatever. But… you’re going to be here. And I don’t want you to…”

She goes quiet and shakes her head. Castiel stands up and starts pacing around, because he doesn’t know what else to do with himself, because he doesn’t want to think about the things she’s talking about. But it’s inevitable and they both knowing.

“You don’t want me to what?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You don’t want me to cry? You don’t want me to be sad?”

“Cas…”

“Because that’s not how this works, Meg!” he continues. “You’re the love of my life and I’m going to lose you!” He bits the inside of his cheek and looks away. “I’m going to lose you forever.”

As he begins to cry, he realizes this is exactly the reason she is so worried about him instead of caring about what is going to happen to her. Because he is the one falling apart and she is the one standing up and wrapping her arms around him to console him. Because he is in so much pain and he can’t bring himself to confront all of this, honestly, openly, not the way she is doing it.

He pulls her tight against his body, sinks his nose in her hair and breathes in the smell of her citric shampoo. After a few seconds, he lets go and looks at her face. She’s crying too, in that silent, stoic way of hers: just letting the tears stream down her cheeks while she herself makes no sound. He’s never her sobbing. When she’s sad she gets angry and she shouts and becomes a hurricane of fury, as if the world had no right to have hurt her that way. So this calmness, this acceptance, it’s so alien to him.

He presses his forehead against hers and for a moment, all they really do is hold each other silently.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“It doesn’t matter.”

There’s a headache from unshed tears growing in the back of his skull, but he ignores it. He doesn’t know what to say next.

“What now?” he asks in the end.

“Well, I march into Crowley’s office and tell him he is a smarmy dick,” Meg declares. “’Cause I’m not leaving this world without doing that.”

And somehow that melts the tension around them. He laughs against her neck and slowly sways her back and forth. What she says actually makes sense. All the plans they had made are pointless now, which means they can throw them all away and make new ones. Make better ones so Meg can use up all her limited time in things that make her happy, in things that matter to her.

She laughs when he suggests making a bucket list.

“Are you for real?”

“Yes,” he insists. “Let’s do everything you always wanted to do and couldn’t. Let’s do them now, Meg.”

It takes some time. They’re half laughing and half crying while they sit together with a notepad and a pen. Meg is quitting her job. She always hated it and her boss anyway. He’s taking a sabbatical from college. They’re going to travel: they’re going to see places she always wanted to visit, find spots that are hidden and no one will know about. They’re planning road trips, places to stop, one single long vacation from everything…

“Anywhere else?”

Meg tapped her fingers on the table.

“No, I think that’s all.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. He knows her well enough to know she’s lying to him.

“Meg, anywhere else?” he insists.

Meg sighs and leans back on her chair.

“I… I’ve always wanted to go to Amsterdam. I don’t know why. It looks like a beautiful place.”

“Very well. Amsterdam.” He start writing it down but she gently puts a hand on his wrist to stop him.

“Cas… look, I know this is all about living in the present and not caring about the future, but… how exactly are we going to afford all of that?”

Castiel scratches the pen against his chin.

“We could sell the house.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Absolutely,” he says. “We bought this house for us. I don’t want to live here without you.”

The statement sucks the air out of the room. Meg looks around: at their kitchen counters and cabinets, at the ugly wallpaper, at the dishes from breakfast piling up in the sink because they were late for their appointment, so they decided to just leave them there. Castiel now wishes they had stayed at home, just a little longer, instead of having this awful, heavy true revealed to them.

“I want to die here,” Meg declares.

Castiel almost drops the pen.

“Meg!”

“Listen, I don’t want to die in a hospital, hooked to a machine,” she insists. “If we’re thinking about what we’re going to do in the meantime of me dying, we should also discuss what happens when I actually do die. You can sell the house after I’m gone if it hurts you to stay. But I want to die here.”

Castiel takes a deep breath. He supposed it’s only fair that they address everything else that hurts too.

“Very well,” he says, reluctantly.

She sighs with relief, as if she’d thought he’d put up a fight. Castiel doesn’t understand this. She could have asked him for the moon at that moment and he would’ve done the impossible to give it to her.

“I also don’t want you to embalm me and put me in of those cement caskets,” she continues. “I’ve read about these… alternative burial practices where they wrap you in a shroud and put you on the ground. That’s what I want.”

“Very well,” he repeats, though his voice comes out croaked and broken.

She licks her lips, her eyes once more reddened by unshed tears. Castiel moves his chair closer to her and wraps his arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry, Cas.”

“It’s okay,” he mutters. “It’s fine.”

It isn’t. And he doesn’t think it’ll ever be again.

They skip dinner that night. They skip everything. They turn off their phones and walk upstairs together. His hands are trembling while he helps her out of her clothes his lips reverent as they traced every inch of her body. He wants to remember everything, everything he wants took for granted and is now on the verge of losing: her taste, her smell, the way her skin looks flushed and glistening with sweat, how soft her hair feels wrapped around his fingers.

They say nothing afterwards. They lay on each other’s arms silently, listening to the beating of their own hearts.

“You’re not going to forget, are you?” she whispers against his chest. Her voice sounds muffled, as if there’s something suck on her throat. He knows it’s all the tears that she’s refusing to cry.

“No,” Castiel promises as he kisses the top of her head. “Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to request a birthday prompt, you can do so by [contacting me through my Tumblr](http://inkbleeder.tumblr.com/post/178377106826/spn-birthday-prompts)!


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